


A Matter of Choices

by Magicofisis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-25
Updated: 2005-11-25
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:09:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicofisis/pseuds/Magicofisis
Summary: Harry has always been different, and now that his friends are settling down, his lifestyle is causing him to make different choices – thank God.





	A Matter of Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Happy birthday to lovely [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=crikkita)[**crikkita**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/crikkita/), who is so darn cute I want to pinch her cyber-cheeks. This fic was made to order – [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=crikkita)[**crikkita**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/crikkita/) wanted Harry to be [quirkyalone](http://quirkyalone.net/qa/) and happy to be single. (And I'm sorry darling – my Luna voice was on vacation, so she only gets a passing mention here.)  


* * *

Harry Potter lowered the sleeping infant into his cot. It had been an exhausting day for all of them, and he envied the child being able to escape from it all by snuggling into the strong, loving arms of his godfather and falling fast asleep. Harry knew that as soon as he walked out that door, the barrage of questions, insinuations and expectations would begin again. He stared down at little Bilius, whose bald head was just beginning to show signs of sprouting Weasley-red hair, and sighed wistfully. All right, there was no more avoiding it. Molly Weasley was going to have her say, no matter what.  
  
He met Ron as he closed the door to the nursery. “Did he go down okay?” asked Ron. When Harry nodded, he continued, “Say, Harry, I think I should warn you about Mum…”  
  
“No need, Ron. I already know. She’s been trying to corner me since I got here, and I’ve managed to avoid being alone with her for nearly two hours now.”  
  
“I’m sorry. She means well, you know. She considers you a Weasley, and that means you’re meant to have children.”  
  
Harry smiled. “I know. And if I found someone as wonderful as Hermione and could guarantee that I’d be as good a parent as the two of you are to my godchildren, then there’s nothing I’d love more than to start a family. But I can’t see it ever happening, and I’m perfectly fine with that.”  
  
Harry followed Ron down the stairs and back to the party. It was Leandra Weasley’s sixth birthday, and Hermione’s parents and a whole host of Weasleys had gathered to celebrate. When they entered the living room, Harry laughed as Leandra showed an astonished Grandpa Granger her magical self-dressing doll, while Grandpa Weasley prodded the little Muggle bicycle to see how it worked. Harry was about to explain the gear mechanism to Arthur when he was grabbed from behind by Molly Weasley and hauled off into the kitchen. Harry noted with some surprise that she was not nearly as fragile as she looked.  
  
“Harry, dear, I know you’ve been avoiding me all day, and I won’t stand for it. Here, sit down and have another slice of pie.”  
  
Harry felt himself being shoved rather forcefully into a chair. All right then, he was going to have to come out to her – there was no getting around it. He’d rather hoped that he could simply be venerable old Uncle Harry to all the Weasley kids, but Molly wasn’t going to give up that easily.  
  
“What’s new at the Burrow?” Harry asked, trying to put off the inevitable for as long as possible. “Have you enjoyed having Charlie’s family with you over the past week?”  
  
Molly stared at him before slowly smiling. “Why yes, dear, it’s been lovely. I wish he and Tatiana would move back to England so that we could see the boys more often, but Arthur and I are very glad they make an effort to visit a few times a year. You know, Harry, there’s nothing quite like having a family.” She narrowed her eyes a bit, trying to gauge his reaction.  
  
Harry had known this topic was coming, so he was fully prepared. “I know. I’m so thankful that your family has made me an honorary Weasley. You all make me feel so welcome. I’m very lucky.”  
  
“I’ll be perfectly blunt, Harry. You’re thirty years old, and there’s no sign of a wife on the horizon. You know you’ll always be welcome as a member of our family, but I worry about you being alone.”  
  
Harry looked her directly in the eye. “I’m only alone because I want to be. I date whenever I meet someone who catches my fancy, but I haven’t found anyone I’d want to be with for the rest of my life.”  
  
“Funny you should say that, Harry…”  
  
Harry tried to stifle a chuckle. It was always the same. Molly had been trying to set him up with some witch or another for the past ten years, and she never seemed to take the hint that he was perfectly capable of finding his own dates, thank you very much.  
  
Molly continued, “Ginny was over with Amos and Andreus the other day, and your old friend Luna Lovegood stopped by. She’s just as pretty as she ever was, and for some reason, she’s never found the right person to settle down with either. She asked about you and seemed quite interested when I said that I’d be seeing you this weekend.”  
  
Harry laughed, which left Molly looking somewhat affronted. He knew exactly why Luna had never settled down: she was as weird as ever, and it would take a unique person to dare to marry her. Harry had once got very drunk in a bar with Luna, and they’d ended up having what they both agreed afterwards was the worst sex of their lives. But at least they could still laugh about it.  
  
“Yes, I saw Luna a number of months ago – she is still quite pretty. And if I were at all interested in women, I’d be foolish not to ask her out.”  
  
He held his breath, wondering if he’d been too subtle. Molly had been about to respond when she suddenly shut her mouth and glared at him. “Good heavens, Harry, you don’t mean—”  
  
“I’m gay,” he said, nodding his head.  
  
“But you and Ginny! And then Katie… I don’t understand.”  
  
Harry sighed. He’d expected this to be difficult, but it was distressing seeing the disappointment on Molly’s face. “I didn’t really accept that I was gay until about five years ago, and before that, I went out with women. How else do you think I could have let Ginny marry someone else?”  
  
“She knows this about you, then? Is that why she kept telling me it was ‘for the best’ that you broke up?” Molly looked as if she was torn between throttling him and pulling him into a warm hug.  
  
Harry shrugged. “I suppose so. But I was pretty immature when she and I went out. Even if I was straight, I’m not sure that we could ever have made a go of it. And she’s got Seamus now and they’re so good together. I couldn’t be happier about how things worked out.”  
  
Molly smiled. Seamus Finnigan had been a breath of fresh air when he’d married into the family. He seemed to restore the sense of fun that the war had sapped out of the Weasley clan, and Ginny seemed to need someone around who would keep her laughing. Molly sat up straight in her chair and laid her hand on one of Harry’s.  
  
“So there’s no special man, then?”  
  
Harry had to admire her persistence. He rose to his feet to show that he was done discussing his personal life. He’d told Molly as much as she needed to know – probably too much – and it was time to get back to the party.  
  
“There’s no one special right now, no. Look, I know you want me to be happy, so let me assure you that I’m very comfortable right now. I have a job that I love, I’ve got wonderful friends, three beautiful godchildren, and enough gold to get by. I’m not concerned that I haven’t found the right person to settle down with yet, and you shouldn’t be either. I’m only thirty years old. I’ve got my whole life ahead of me.” Harry bent down to kiss her cheek. “But I’m glad to know you care. Thank you.”  
  
Harry rejoined the birthday party, whereupon he was promptly swarmed by a myriad of Weasley cousins begging him for Quidditch tickets to the next Cannons match. He glanced up at “Uncle” Ron, who had obviously put them up to it. It felt great knowing that there would be a sea of red hair in the stands at his opening match of the season, and all of these people would be cheering for him.  
  
~*~*~  
  
“Would you give it up?” moaned Harry finally. He’d been listening to Draco drone on about how happy he and Severus were, and how he’d really love to have Harry drop by some day for tea. “Look, I forgave you a decade ago, so it’s not you I’m trying to avoid. But I am having a hard time believing that Snape – excuse me – _Severus_ wants to have tea with me any more than I want to have tea with him. We don’t like each other, okay?”  
  
Draco huffed, “You are the most narrow-minded, pompous—”  
  
“So you mean to say that if I flooed him right now, Snape would say, ‘Yeah, that would be great. How about Tuesday?’”  
  
Draco turned beet red, but didn’t answer.  
  
“Yeah – I thought so. I’ll meet you here or at my place or even at your place if Snape is in a coma or something. But if I never see him again, it will be too soon.”  
  
Draco looked horrified. “Then you won’t come to the ceremony?”  
  
“What ceremony?”  
  
“Severus and I are getting bonded.” Harry’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “I’d wanted to tell you over tea, but since you’re being so stubborn…”  
  
“Bonded? But that’s so… permanent. Are you sure about this?”  
  
Draco nodded. “I’m very sure. I love Severus and he loves me and we’re both ready for this. I didn’t really expect you to approve.”  
  
Harry shook his head. “Mate, you don’t need my approval. It’s just that Snape is so… nasty. I can’t figure out why you’d ever want to be with him in the first place. Why are you rushing into this?”  
  
“Someday, Potter, you’ll fall in love with someone, and I won’t have to explain this to you. He understands me in a way that no one else ever will, and I understand what he’s gone through just to survive. I can’t tell you how much that means to someone like me – that he’d know everything about me and still accept me for who I am. Plus he’s got those fantastic fingers that make sex—”  
  
“Stop!” shouted Harry. “I do not ever want to hear about Severus Snape’s sex life, okay?” Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I’m sorry, you know,” he said quietly.  
  
“Sorry about what?”  
  
Harry stared at his fingernails. “I’m sorry I couldn’t understand you like that.”  
  
There was a heavy silence so that was only broken by the sound of each other’s breathing. They didn’t often talk about the way things used to be between them, and Harry wasn’t even sure what had made him bring it up in the first place.  
  
Draco put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, you and me together was a laugh, and the sex was great, but we both know that there was something missing. I have that something with Severus now. You and I had fun while it lasted and then we moved on. You’re not, uh, still carrying the torch for me are you?”  
  
“God, Malfoy, you and your revisionist history! Let’s not forget who broke it off with whom. You’re so full of yourself that you probably think I’m crying my eyes out every night.” Harry laughed at that absurd notion.  
  
“You mean you’re not? I’m crushed. Really.”  
  
The two men proceeded to drink themselves into oblivion, so that the long-suffering innkeeper had to lead them to separate rooms for the night.  
  
~*~*~  
  
The Quidditch World Cup was being held outside of Barcelona that summer, and Harry had scored top box tickets for himself and Ron through his Ministry of Magic connections. England had been eliminated in the third round, so they would be supporting Finland along with most of their fellow countrymen.  
  
Harry and Ron had just got their tent set up when an exhausted owl swooped down from out of nowhere and delivered a note to Ron. He quickly unrolled the parchment and scanned it.  
  
“Damn! Doesn’t it just figure?” he said exasperatedly.  
  
“What’s wrong?” asked Harry.  
  
Ron shoved the note at him. “Roscoe got in a fight with another kid and they both ended up in St. Mungo’s. Damn it. The boy is ten years old – you’d think by now he’d learn how to behave. Why the hell isn’t he more like his mum?”  
  
Harry glanced at the note without really reading it. “Is he going to be okay?”  
  
Ron nodded. “Thankfully, Hermione was right there and did a countercurse right away. But she says she can’t be with Roscoe at St. Mungo’s and take care of the other two at the same time. With Mum and Dad in Tunisia, there’s no one else around to watch them. You know Hermione wouldn’t have written if it weren’t bad. I’m going to have to go home.”  
  
He had to admit that, knowing how enthusiastic Ron was about Quidditch, Hermione must be at her wits end to call Ron back home only hours after he’d left. Harry was disappointed, but it was clear that Ron was even more so. “You do what you have to do, Ron. I’ll cheer on Finland for us.”  
  
Ron grumbled the whole way back to the Apparition Point. After he disappeared, Harry wandered around looking for someone to invite into the top box. It would be impossible now for someone to get from England to Barcelona in time for the match without having arranged transportation in advance. The best he could hope for would be to find someone with a regular stadium seat who’d want to upgrade. But since the match could potentially go on for hours, it would have to be someone he knew and liked.  
  
Harry hadn’t even gone a hundred yards before he ran into Draco Malfoy. He slapped him on the back before excitedly saying, “I’ve got an extra ticket for the top box. Do you want to sit up there with me?”  
  
Draco’s eyes shifted nervously. “I’ve already got tickets for the top box. With Severus.” They compared seat numbers and decided they’d be sitting sufficiently far apart so that Harry and Snape would be able to avoid each other completely. Draco then went on to say rude things about Ron, and their conversation abruptly ended.  
  
He’d almost resigned himself to sitting next to an empty seat when he came across a huge group of professional Quidditch players whom he recognized from his various international matches. He scanned the group for people he knew and finally spied Euan Abercrombie talking to Oliver Wood. Euan was a Beater for the Caerphilly Catapults, and Oliver, at age thirty-four, was still a formidable Keeper for Puddlemere United.  
  
Oliver stood up when Harry approached and shook his hand jovially. He had seen Oliver a number of times over the years, but Harry was always uncharacteristically tongue-tied whenever he’d tried to talk to him. Oliver seemed to get better looking with age, and Harry’d had a crush on him for as long as he could remember.  
  
Oliver leaned into Harry and whispered, “Would you mind saving me from this bloke? He’s been following me around like a puppy for the last hour and a half.”  
  
Harry smiled and nodded. He turned to Euan and held out a hand. “Hello, Euan. It’s been a long time. Is your team over the thrashing we gave you last April yet?”  
  
Euan shook his hand and laughed nervously, saying, “Hey, Harry. Heh – you always were lucky, weren’t you?” He eyed Wood anxiously, clearly worried that having his attention diverted might displease his idol.  
  
“I’ve got your ticket here, Oliver,” said Harry, turning back to Oliver while reaching into his jeans pocket. He pulled out Ron’s ticket and handed it to the burly blond. “You ready to go to the stadium?”  
  
Wood looked at the ticket and smiled at Harry with dancing eyes. “Yeah, it’s probably time.” He nodded to Euan, saying, “It’s been a pleasure. See you around.” He put his arm around Harry’s shoulders and guided him in the direction of the stadium.  
  
When they were out of Euan’s earshot, Oliver let out a sigh of relief. “As if it isn’t bad enough to have the fans after you – I can’t believe that guy wouldn’t leave me alone. Thanks, Harry. I owe you one.” Oliver glanced at the ticket he was passing back to Harry and whistled. “Top box! What are you doing hobnobbing with those of us who can only get first tier seats?”  
  
Harry smirked. “You know, you’d be amazed at the favors you can get just by killing one pesky Dark Lord. It’s revolting, really.”  
  
Oliver’s dimple flashed as he said, “Well, I suppose they might owe you a top box seat or two. Who’s with you?”  
  
Harry was enjoying his peaceful walk with Oliver’s arm still draped loosely across his shoulders. He glanced sideways and caught Oliver’s eye. “No one. Ron Weasley came down with me, but he got called back to England unexpectedly. So I wasn’t joking about the ticket being yours. That is, if you want it.”  
  
Oliver stopped dead in his tracks. “Want it? Of course I want it! You’re really serious, aren’t you?” When Harry nodded, he said, “Just let me tell the guys how lucky I am. Hold on.”  
  
Harry was rather thinking that he was the lucky one as he watched Oliver sprint to a tent draped in Puddlemere United blue and gold flags and poke his head inside. Harry heard a chorus of voices exclaiming, “No way!” before Oliver pulled his head out and stood up, beaming.  
  
There was something about having done Oliver a favor – well, two actually, if you counted getting him away from Euan – that seemed to set them on an equal footing in Harry’s mind. Despite his accomplishments in the war, and afterwards as Seeker for the Cannons, Harry always figured he was “just Harry” to anyone who knew him before he was seventeen. He still looked up to Oliver as the one who had taught an awkward eleven-year-old boy everything he knew about Quidditch. Today, though, he’d been able to return the favor with a choice seat for the Quidditch World Cup, and he was determined to try to act as normal as possible. With no evidence that Oliver was gay, he oughtn’t fawn over him like a smitten schoolgirl.  
  
Heads turned to watch the stunningly attractive couple as they moved through the crowd, but Harry and Oliver were oblivious to them as they climbed the seemingly endless stairway to the top box.  
  
~*~*~  
  
There were so many seats crammed into the top box that Harry would have felt mildly claustrophobic had his seat not been on the aisle. Next to him, broad-shouldered Oliver sort of spilled over into Harry’s space, but Harry didn’t mind. From the time they sat down, he and Oliver seemed to hit it off splendidly, and Harry had forgotten why he’d ever been nervous around Oliver in the first place.  
  
Surveying the box with his omnioculars, Harry spied Draco sitting next to Snape. He scowled as he watched Snape put a protective arm around the back of Draco’s seat. As long as he lived, he’d never understand how Draco could fall for that greasy-haired bastard.  
  
As Harry lowered the omnioculars to his lap, Oliver leaned toward him and said, “I take it there’s someone over there you don’t like very much.”  
  
“That’s an understatement. It’s Severus Snape with Draco Malfoy.”  
  
Oliver nodded knowingly. “I seem to recall you never liked Malfoy very much.”  
  
“No, Malfoy’s fine. He’s decent enough if you can get past the snarky exterior. In fact, we’re quite friendly now. It’s Snape that I can’t stand. No matter how heroic he appeared to be during that fight against Voldemort, I’ve never believed he was anything but a self-serving, sadistic bastard. I don’t know what Draco sees in him.”  
  
Oliver started to agree that Snape was, indeed, unpleasant, but he was interrupted by a man’s voice echoing through the stands, apparently beginning the Opening Ceremony with a long speech in Spanish.  
  
Unlike some of the previous World Cup finals, this match dragged on without so much as a flash sighting of the Golden Snitch. Harry and Oliver had settled into an easy rapport, discussing a wide range of topics, both Quidditch-related and of a personal nature. Harry learned that, after living with someone for several years, Oliver was once again happily single, and that his favorite pastime was riding a flying motorcycle, just like the one Harry had inherited from Sirius. Oliver considered himself a music aficionado, and they’d spent a good deal of time exchanging stories about rock concerts they’d seen. The weather was gorgeous, and Harry was not at all sorry that neither team had caught the Snitch since it allowed him a chance to really get to know Oliver.  
  
Six hours into the match, the Snitch had still not been sighted, causing Beaters on both sides to lose patience and begin swinging wildly in frustration. Harry and Oliver had been animatedly discussing Quidditch players’ use of performance-enhancing potions when Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye a badly hit Bludger heading straight for Oliver’s face. Without pausing to think, he whipped his wand out of his sleeve and threw out a shield charm just in time to save them from an urgent trip to the first aid station. The Bludger bounced off the shield and rebounded harmlessly back over the pitch.  
  
“That was bloody close!” Oliver was clearly shaken by the near miss. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been hit in the face with a Bludger, but it still hurt like the devil and it would have taken him weeks to recover from the blow.  
  
Harry’s quick maneuvering had attracted considerable attention from others in the top box, and he suddenly felt very self-conscious with so many eyes focused on him rather than the match.  
  
“All right, Oliver?” Harry asked with concern, trying to distract himself from the staring.  
  
Oliver nodded. “Yes, thanks to you and your quick reflexes. That could have been really ugly.”  
  
Harry grabbed Oliver’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently moving his head from side to side so that he could inspect Oliver’s face. “No, nothing ugly there.” Harry realized a long shadow was being cast over them. “But speaking of ugly…” he said under his breath.  
  
Harry looked up to see Severus Snape sneering at them. “You just can’t help yourself, can you, Potter? You always have to be doing something heroic to put yourself in the spotlight. Pathetic.”  
  
“Not all of us enjoy reveling in someone else’s pain,” retorted Harry. Harry had pulled his hand back from Oliver’s face, but clearly Snape had seen him touching it.  
  
“Or perhaps you’re just trying to impress Mr. Wood and make him grateful enough to be lured to your bed.” Snape leered at them as he spoke. “Unless, of course, you’re already lovers?”  
  
Harry stood up and moved into the aisle, looking Snape square in the eye. “Oliver is my friend, although I doubt you’d understand that seeing as how you don’t have any friends of your own. And for you to insinuate that I’d have to trick someone into sleeping with me is ridiculous. But now I’m wondering… is Draco really in love with you, or did you have to lure him to _your_ bed with a love potion? Because he came to mine quite enthusiastically without one.”  
  
Snape shook his head. “You’ll never grow up, will you? Nor will you ever stop talking about things you don’t understand. Draco’s well rid of—”  
  
“Draco’s not rid of me,” Harry interrupted. “He is still my friend, and if you hurt him, so help me God, I’ll—”  
  
Snape quickly drew his wand and thrust the tip of it under Harry’s chin. “You’ll what?” he growled.  
  
Unfazed, Harry grabbed the wand and twisted Snape’s wrist so that the tip was pointed back at his former professor. His voice deep and low, Harry hissed, “I’ll make you sorry that Voldemort didn’t get you first.”  
  
“Stop! Enough!” said a Spanish security wizard who was racing down the aisle towards them. “No fight in de stands or we trow you out!”  
  
Harry let go of Snape’s wand and flopped into his seat. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, and he took off his glasses for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow. He didn’t see Draco rush past him and lead Snape silently out of the top box.  
  
When he put his glasses back on, he noticed that Oliver was staring at him. “What?” he asked.  
  
“You and Malfoy were together? As a couple?”  
  
Though a cool breeze was blowing in the stands, Harry could feel his face heat up. He hadn’t intended to come out to Oliver, but there it was, and he couldn’t take it back now. “Er, yeah. Didn’t last very long, though. He’s a bit too self-absorbed for my liking.”  
  
A smile turned up at the corners of Oliver’s mouth, but he said nothing more on the subject. What might have passed as an awkward silence was suddenly filled with roaring cheers from the fans around them as the Finnish Seeker whizzed past them in hot pursuit of the Snitch.  
  
“It’s not a feint – I saw it,” shouted Harry over the noise. They stood with the crowd and winced as the two Seekers collided spectacularly. Even as his broom veered out of control, the Finnish Seeker held aloft his hand, which was clutching the Snitch. Finland had won the match with a score of 800-640.  
  
All around them, people were jumping up and down, cheering for Finland. Oliver grabbed Harry and gave him an elated hug. Harry was surprised, but pleased. As they poured out of the box onto the stairway, Oliver continued to prattle on about the similarities between that catch and the one that ended the World Cup in 2002. The long match had drained many spectators of their energy, but a vocal contingent was still able to laugh and sing. Now the celebrations would begin.  
  
As they walked back to the campsites, Oliver said, “Come back to my tent and party with us. The boys are great fun, and I know you’ll like them.”  
  
Once again, Harry was feeling self-conscious. Under normal circumstances, he’d have accepted the invitation without hesitation. But after that argument with Snape, particularly the part where he’d accused Harry of trying to lure Oliver to his bed, he wanted to make it perfectly clear to Oliver that he had no such designs. They’d had such a lovely afternoon. He could see that he and Oliver could be great friends as long as he didn’t do anything to mess it up. “Thanks, but I think I’ll just fix myself some dinner and turn in for the night. I’ve got to Apparate out early in the morning.”  
  
Oliver’s face was crestfallen as they came to a halt in front of Harry’s tent. “Okay. Well, if you change your mind, we’re two sites over, third tent on the left.”  
  
“Yeah, I remember, the one with the Puddlemere flags,” said Harry, nodding.  
  
“Harry, thanks for the ticket. I really enjoyed watching the match with you.” Oliver gave Harry a friendly pat on the shoulder before continuing down the row towards his campsite.  
  
Harry watched him walk away. It had been a fun day for him, too. And it didn’t appear that Oliver was the least bit uncomfortable about him being gay, and that made him happy. He turned to go into his tent and never saw Oliver’s gaze trained on him.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Harry was arranging his camp bed in the borrowed tent after having eaten a hasty dinner, when he heard music wafting through the window. It was very relaxing; someone had brought along a guitar for some evening singing around the campfire. As the guitarist played on, he recognized a very old Muggle tune that he used to hear on Dudley’s stereo as a child.  
  
 _“Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’, ‘cause I’ve built my life around you,  
but time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I’m getting’ older too.”_  
  
Harry was drawn to the smooth tenor voice and couldn’t stop himself from poking his head out of the tent to see who was playing.  
  
The guitarist was sitting alone with his back against a nearby tree. Twilight was about to give in to darkness, but the silhouette was instantly recognizable. When he finished the song, he looked up to see Harry staring at him.  
  
“Oliver? What are you doing here?” asked Harry. He stepped out of the tent in his bare feet and approached the tree, encouraged by Oliver’s fetching smile.  
  
He stood up to face Harry. “I didn’t want to be rude and wake you if you were already asleep. I’d hoped you might hear me out here – guess this is my lucky night.”  
  
 _Or mine_ , Harry thought, unable hold back a wide grin. “But I thought you were going to party all night with your friends.”  
  
“They got a bit of head start,” snorted Oliver. “I figure most of them will pass out within the hour. But to tell you the truth, I’d have come back here anyway.”  
  
“Why?” Harry asked as their eyes met. It was almost too much to hope that Oliver might want to spend more time with him.  
  
Oliver took a step closer to Harry, so that they were nearly nose to nose. “I had a really nice time being with you this afternoon, and I’m just not ready for it to be over.”  
  
Harry licked his lips nervously. God, it almost sounded as if Oliver was interested in him. But he didn’t want to read too much into Oliver’s comments, so he quickly turned on his heel. “Come inside, then. It’s a bit chilly now the wind has picked up.”  
  
Oliver followed him into the dimly lit tent and set his guitar down just inside the door. As he straightened up, Harry smiled at him, a hand on each hip.  
  
“I’m glad you came back,” said Harry shyly. He shivered as Oliver’s gaze swept up and down his body and then focused on his eyes. He was unnerved by his reaction to Oliver – he was usually much more confident when he was with someone he fancied. He needed a distraction. “Lager or firewhisky is all I’ve got – do you want something?”  
  
“Yes, I do.” Oliver paused. “Oh, firewhisky, please.”  
  
Harry handed Oliver a glass of firewhisky and poured one for himself. He transfigured the camp bed into a couch. “Sorry the tent is so small; Ron and I wanted to travel light.”  
  
“The tent is fine,” said Oliver as he settled onto the couch. “So, Ron must have been pretty upset having to miss the World Cup with top box seats and everything.”  
  
Harry sat down next to Oliver. “Yeah, he was. Except that it seems like his priorities have changed since having kids. There was a time – not that long ago – when he’d have made me lie and say we never got the note. It’s hard to imagine ever being tied down like that.”  
  
Oliver nodded. “I know what you mean. A few years back, it seemed like every time I turned around, someone I knew was getting married. Now they’re all having kids.”  
  
“I like it, though,” replied Harry. “My friends are having the kids, and I can be their ‘Uncle Harry’ and play with them and stuff. But I never have to change their nappies.”  
  
“You’re not ready to settle down, I take it.”  
  
Harry looked aghast at the thought. “God, no!”  
  
Oliver laughed. “I thought not. Still, don’t you ever get lonely? Sometimes I get tired of my own company.”  
  
“Oliver, when you’re adopted into the Weasley clan, like I am, you’re never lonely. Whenever I get sick of being by myself, I just call up a Weasley and offer to babysit. They’ve got about a billion kids between them, you know. And then when I’m done, it makes me want to sit alone in a quiet room.”  
  
“I should remember to try that instead of rushing into another bad relationship.”  
  
Oliver was giving Harry that strange look again, and Harry didn’t know what to make of it. “Is that the one you were telling me about earlier? The one you were living with?”  
  
“Yes,” said Oliver with a nod. “It was great at first – always having someone to eat dinner with and share chores. And sex, of course. But then he started asking what time I was going to be home and making plans for me on my days off. I hated that.”  
  
Harry’s heart leapt into his throat. “ _He?_ You were living with a man?”  
  
“Yeah, didn’t I say that? Kenneth Towler – he was two years behind me at Hogwarts.” Oliver refused to look Harry in the eye.  
  
Harry struggled to keep his jaw from dropping to the ground. Harry had convinced himself that Oliver was straight; he was in complete shock. He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He hadn’t been wrong – Oliver really _was_ interested in him. “No, you didn’t. I wish you had, though. I was feeling pretty stupid about the way I so eloquently outed myself earlier.”  
  
Oliver grasped Harry’s shoulder. “I thought it was fantastic, the way you stood up to Snape. There aren’t many people who would do that to protect an ex-boyfriend.”  
  
It dawned on Harry that he might have sounded like he’d never got over Draco, and he didn’t want to leave the wrong impression. The truth was that he’d have stood up to Snape for any of his friends. “I don’t have a proper family,” he tried to explain. “My friends mean the world to me.”  
  
Licking his lips nervously, Oliver said, “What about me? Do you consider me to be a friend?”  
  
Harry could see where this conversation was headed – he’d wanted to kiss Oliver all day, and he could clearly see now that Oliver had designs on him as well. “Absolutely. Or maybe a friend with potential for more?” Harry’s eyes gleamed as he watched Oliver’s reaction to his words.  
  
“Oh, yes, I definitely see that potential.”  
  
Oliver wrapped a hand gently behind Harry’s neck and pulled him close. When their lips met, Harry felt as though a long-forgotten creature was rattling around in his chest. It had been a very long time since anyone had made him feel so alive just from a kiss. He kissed Oliver back and was rewarded with Oliver’s tongue seeking to part his lips. God, it was fantastic.  
  
When they broke apart for air, Harry was amazed to see Oliver wearing the same goofy grin that he knew he was sporting. Harry’s last few sexual encounters had been completely meaningless, and they’d left him sated but bored. But this excitement he felt with Oliver was different, like that first time he’d ever kissed Ginny Weasley, only without the staring crowd. There was definitely desire, but it was also…fun.  
  
Oliver’s lips grazed across Harry’s cheek and followed the outline of his jaw to the curve of his neck. Harry could feel his heart beating faster as Oliver worked his throat. He snaked a hand into Oliver’s hair and used it to coax Oliver’s lips back to his.  
  
They kissed for a long time. Harry could sense that Oliver was becoming impatient, wanting to push things farther and faster. But Harry was purposely slowing things down; he liked Oliver way too much to turn this into a one-night stand.  
  
“Harry,” Oliver purred, “I really like you.” His blue eyes bored into Harry’s green ones. “And I’d—”  
  
“Ollllliiii-verrrrrr,” boomed several male voices from outside the tent. “Olllliverrrr, are you in there?”  
  
Oliver appeared to be horrorstruck by the idea that the ‘Oliver’ these men were looking for might be him, and he paused to listen. The men outside were swearing at each other and laughing, punctuating their conversation every so often with a cry of, “Oliver, where the hell are you?” There was no question that they were very drunk.  
  
Oliver raised a hand to cover his eyes, but Harry started laughing. Suddenly they heard a “Fuck,” and a “Quit pushing me,” after which at least two bodies hurtled into the side of the tent.  
  
“That was Rudy’s voice – I recognize the cursing. Daft bevvy-swilling idiots,” spat Oliver under his breath.  
  
Whatever Oliver had been planning to say to Harry was lost along with the romantic mood as a stocky brunette poked his head inside the door of the tent, slurring, “So sorry to bother you. My friend is drun—Oliver!”  
  
Before Harry could register what was happening, there were suddenly four very pissed young men clambering into the tent. Oliver quickly drew his wand and stunned the two closest to him. Harry stunned the other two.  
  
Oliver shook his head. “Harry, I’m really sorry about this.”  
  
“It’s not your fault. What do you say we levitate them back to your tent before we wake them up?” Harry was disappointed, to be sure, but he had a funny feeling that he’d be seeing a lot more of Oliver once they got back to England.  
  
When Harry and Oliver had put the last man to bed, Oliver pulled Harry close again and kissed him with so much force, it nearly took his breath away. Harry’s heart started racing and his excitement was building again. He knew that if he didn’t leave soon, he’d end up ravishing Oliver right there in front of his sleeping teammates. It wasn’t exactly how he wanted that seduction to go.  
  
“Oliver,” he said, steeling himself with resolve, “I need to get a few hours of sleep before I Apparate out in the morning. I should go.”  
  
Oliver kissed him, softly this time, and reluctantly nodded. “Can I see you again?”  
  
“Yeah, only next time, let’s skip the audience. I’ll key you into my wards when I get home. My floo address is Seeker Boy,” said Harry with a wink.  
  
After one last kiss – well, maybe two or three – Harry left the Puddlemere tent to return to his own. He flicked his wand to resurrect the caved-in section and went inside. There, next to the doorway, stood Oliver’s guitar.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Oliver’s tongue moved slowly across Harry’s chest, catching on his nipple and ever so slightly pausing to play with it before continuing on to his navel. It didn’t matter how many times they’d had sex: for Harry, each time was brand new and exciting. And when Oliver’s mouth engulfed his cock, he trembled with delight. After reducing him to near incoherence, Oliver climbed back up on Harry and, pressing their erections together, growled, “Do you have any idea how much I want to fuck you? Can you feel how hard I am for you?” Harry nearly came from Oliver’s words alone.  
  
“Ollie…need you. Want you so bad…please,” whimpered Harry breathlessly.  
  
His cock throbbed as Oliver stretched him and repeatedly found his sensitive prostate. He was shamelessly begging by the time Oliver had worked his way inside of him.  
  
Oliver set a deliberate pace, rocking his hips and thrusting hard. Harry stroked his own cock, oblivious to everything around him except the sound of Oliver’s balls slapping against his arse and the moans escaping from his own throat.  
  
“God, so close…please…love you,” gasped Harry.  
  
Oliver froze for a split second before pounding into Harry so deep he thought he might break him. Wave after wave of ecstasy washed over Harry as he came hard. Harry opened his eyes just in time to see Oliver’s face as he was thrown into his own orgasmic bliss.  
  
They lay there, trying to catch their breath. After about a minute, Oliver whispered, “I love you, too.”  
  
“Then move in with me,” pleaded Harry, giving Oliver the puppy dog eyes. “Or we can pick out a new place together.”  
  
Oliver absently ran his fingertips across Harry’s chest. “It’s not that – I love this place. And you. But when you share space with someone…well, let’s just say that you can have too much of a good thing.”  
  
Harry lifted Oliver’s chin so that they were staring into each other’s eyes. “Ollie, it’s been – what? – fourteen months since we got together, and I’m just as crazy about you as I ever was. We both travel so much that we’ll have plenty of time to ourselves, and when we’re both home, we won’t waste time trying to decide who’s house we’re going to be at.” A wide smile crossed Harry’s face. “I’ll even let you have your own room…”  
  
Oliver laughed. “As if you’d ever let me sleep there!” He stretched his neck to kiss Harry’s lips. “I’ll think about it.”  
  
Harry was in the process of reminding Oliver that he’d have access to Harry’s body any time he wanted it, when they heard a distressed voice calling Harry’s name from the fireplace.  
  
“Who would floo you this time of night?” asked Oliver.  
  
“Sort of sounds like Draco. Hold on.”  
  
Harry grabbed his dressing gown from the hook and pulled it on as he ran towards the living room. When he got there, he saw Draco’s head bobbing in the flames, eyes swollen and red.  
  
“Draco? What’s wrong?” Harry knelt down next to Draco’s head.  
  
“It’s Severus. He’s as pissed as I’ve ever seen him, and I’m afraid he’s going to beat the shit out of me if I say the wrong thing. He’s such a mean drunk.” Draco swallowed hard. “Could I stay at your house for the night? I don’t have anywhere else to go.”  
  
Fighting back the urge to shout, ‘I told you so,’ Harry nodded. “Yes, of course. You’re still keyed to the wards – come whenever you’re ready.”  
  
Oliver wandered out to the living room just as Draco’s head disappeared. Harry informed him that they’d be having a guest. Oliver didn’t say anything, but Harry knew they both had the same thought on their mind: Draco had been so desperate to be in a relationship that he’d been blinded to many of Snape’s (significant) flaws, and now he was paying the consequences.  
  
“I’m not like him, you know,” said Harry quickly. “I don’t need to be with someone in order to be happy. But being with you makes me insanely happy.” He wrapped his arms around Oliver’s neck and kissed him soundly.  
  
“Harry, I—” started Draco, brushing off soot from the fireplace. He glanced up to see Harry and Oliver embracing. “Oh, sorry. I can…uh… I can go back home.”  
  
Harry turned sharply at Draco’s voice. “No you can’t. We all know what Snape is capable of when he’s on a binge. Are you all right?”  
  
“Yeah.” Draco cast his eyes down to avoid the two skeptical looks he was receiving. “Well, no, not really. But I’ll be safe here for the night. Thanks, Harry.”  
  
With Draco sound asleep in the guest bedroom, Harry and Oliver crawled back into bed. “I guess I’d better move in here before Draco does,” said Oliver, smiling.  
  
“Yes, I think you should,” Harry answered with a grin.  
  
~*~*~  
  
It was perfect. At the moment, Oliver was sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, Harry nestled between his bent legs and leaning back on Oliver’s chest, Oliver’s arms wrapped loosely around him. On the couch behind them, Ginny was dozing with the newest addition to the family – a baby girl - draped across her stomach. Ron was battling his son Roscoe in a game of Wizard’s Chess, and the other Weasleys were either napping or sleepily tending to their children.  
  
Harry leaned his head all the way back so that he could whisper into Oliver’s ear, “Funny how all the adults are utterly exhausted. Poor Ginny looks like she hasn’t slept in a month.”  
  
“I think Christmas is very different if you have small children. There are all those presents to buy and wrap. Oh, speaking of which, I have one more present you can unwrap when we get home.” Oliver pressed a kiss onto Harry’s hair.  
  
Harry’s eyes lit up. “But why didn’t you bring it? I brought all of yours here to open.”  
  
“It’s definitely for mature audiences only. But if you insist, I could pop back to the house to get it.” Oliver’s hands slid almost imperceptibly below Harry’s waist, the tips of his fingers brushing the crotch of Harry’s jeans.  
  
Oh, it was one of _those_ kinds of presents. “No, I think it’s best to wait,” Harry said. Damn Oliver, getting him thinking about sex at a time like this.  
  
“I’ve actually been thinking about it all day,” Oliver whispered into Harry’s ear. “As soon as we get home, I’m going to carefully divest you of this lovely Weasley jumper, followed by your t-shirt, jeans and underwear. Then I’m going to lead you to the bedroom where I’ll tie a big red bow around you. That’s my present. After I open you up and play with you for a while – and if you’re a good boy and moan and writhe prettily – I’ll give you your last present.”  
  
Bloody hell, Harry was really in for it this time. One of Oliver’s favorite things was to get Harry excited in public and then watch him squirm until they were alone together. Damn his body for being so suggestible. He was getting hard just thinking about the possibilities for later.  
  
“Stop it,” said Harry with no real conviction. “Now is not the time.”  
  
Oliver smirked and put his mouth right up against Harry’s ear and whispered, “How can I help it if all I can think about is your tight little arse clenching my cock?” Oliver shifted his weight so that something very hard was poking into the small of Harry’s back. “Can you feel how much I want you, Harry?”  
  
Oliver shifted once more so that Harry could definitely feel his erection. As if Harry needed any reminding, having his own to worry about. He both loved and hated that Oliver was always finding new ways to surprise him. Even though it was wildly inappropriate to arouse him in the Weasleys’ living room right after Christmas dinner, it was erotic as hell and he loved it.  
  
Ron noticed Harry’s distress, but fortunately, not the cause. “You all right, Harry?”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I think I ate too much.” Harry craned his neck to shoot a mock dirty look at Oliver, who laughed.  
  
Molly Weasley poked her head out of the kitchen. “Harry, would you mind joining me in here for a moment?”  
  
Harry immediately shot a panicked glance to Ron, who shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he had no idea what his mum was on about this time. Reluctantly, Harry made his way into the kitchen.  
  
“Great dinner, as always,” he said, leaning against the counter.  
  
“Thank you, Harry. I’m very glad you and Oliver could join us. I’ve always liked Oliver – he shared a dormitory with Percy, you know.” Molly dropped her gaze so that she wasn’t quite looking Harry in the eye. “You and Oliver are settling down together then?”  
  
Harry had no idea why he’d thought she’d ever change. He offered an indulgent smile and nodded. “He moved in with me last month and neither of us are seeing other people, so I guess you could say that we’re settled.”  
  
“You know,” she continued cautiously, “if you wanted to get bonded at the Burrow, Arthur and I would be delighted to host a gathering of your friends…”  
  
Harry fought back an eye roll. He’d seen too many cases of wizards getting bonded only to regret it later; sadly, Draco and Snape weren’t the only ones they knew having troubles. There was no way he would ever do that.  
  
“It’s very generous of you to offer, but I think we’re going to hold off on the bonding for now. We don’t really need a ceremony to tell everyone we belong together. Everyone we care about already knows.”  
  
Molly’s disappointment was obvious. “Well, the time may come when you change your mind, so I hope you won’t be shy about asking us at a later date. The offer is always open.”  
  
“Thank you.” Harry watched her curiously to see if he was allowed to leave yet.  
  
Molly got up from her chair and began to rummage around in one of the drawers. Finally, she located a small envelope, which she handed to Harry. “You and Oliver might find this article very interesting. I cut it out of _Witch Weekly_ for you.”  
  
Molly hurried out of the kitchen muttering something about needing to check on one of the babies. His curiosity getting the better of him, Harry opened the envelope to examine the article.  
  
 ** _MINISTRY OF MAGIC CONFIRMS FEASIBILITY OF MALE PREGNANCY_**  
  
“Oh dear God, no,” groaned Harry. He sank into a chair and began to laugh. Twenty years ago, Molly Weasley had taken him under her wing when she showed him how to get on the Hogwarts Express. After all this time, she still couldn’t resist trying to manage his life.  
  
  
 _finis_  
  
~*~*~  
  
Oliver’s song was, of course, _Landslide_ by Stevie Nicks. [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=crikkita)[**crikkita**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/crikkita/) wants her future husband to be able to play this on the guitar for her!


End file.
